Instead of describing my beach, I offer Pablo Neruda’s description from his poem, The Sand. Though he was writing about his beach near his home, Isla Negra, in Chile there are many similarities to mine up here in Oregon. Though we are separated by five decades and over 6,000 miles, we share the Pacific Ocean.
“Everyone walks across the sandy shore and crouches, searching, picking through the sand, to such an extent that someone called this coast “the Island of Lost Things.”
The ocean is an incessant provider of half-rotted planks, balls of green glass or cork floats, fragments of bottles ennobled by rough seas, detritus of crab shells, conch shells, limpets, objects that have eaten away, aged by pressure and insistence…”
Pacific Ocean Sunset, Lincoln City, Oregon 2018